Boston Is Burning
by SnapTobiume10
Summary: Third Street Saint. Morningstar. One city was not big enough for them both; especially not Boston. The city suffers, as the two gangs come face to face; and find they were completely unprepared for one another. They tried to ignore it, and the only one to suffer was Boston itself... M/J Saints Row The Third crossover.
1. Enter: Morningstar

Paris was in flames.

She ran, keeping her knees high, her gun up. She was ready for anything. Or rather, anything but this. She raised the gun, bracing the firearm with her left hand as she shot only twice, knocking the first two enemies in her sight. Paris had been their home for so long. She had been Queen of this city for much too long for this to be happening. The people of Paris had learned to trust her, to love her, even. She had protected them in so many ways.

"Someone protect the Boss!" She heard someone cry out. It was one of hers, and she ducked into a roll, pressing her back up against a wall as gunfire erupted around them.

"Get her up to the helicopter! We need to get out!" Another voice answered, this time deeper, male. She rose, firing her single pistol as drew another from one of her underling's belts. They barely even glanced at her; her touch was something that was always remembered. She raised the gun, firing at the onslaught of helmeted enemies.

"You need to go, ma'am!" The one she was beside shouted of the sound of rapid gunfire. She snapped another clip into each gun, raising them again.

"I stay to fight. They will not cause the Morningstar to flee." She began firing again, when the black- clad soldier seemed to understand who she was. He raised an automatic rifle, the moment before pulling the trigger, the taller woman stepping in front of the boss. The Boss stepped back, the sound of rapid gunfire filling her ears.

"Go." It was a last word. The boss backed a pace, watching as her soldiers made a wall before her, their own weapons raised, barely aiming before they fired. She took a few more steps back, before turning the corner. They were losing. The Morningstar were losing. She ran towards the stairs, tears welling in her eyes. She had been made leader of this gang because she could keep it safe. And for so many years, she had done just that. They had all thought she was too young, when her father turned the massive franchise over to her at the age of twenty. he had started at thirty, two years before he had her. She was now nearly thirty- seven, and the Morningstar operation base had all but exploded. After leaving Steelport a few years before her father took over, the blonde woman had then taken the gang first to England, and then south to France. They owned the majority of Europe now. Or rather, they had owned the majority of Europe. That was until the European gangs that she had pushed out of house and home had gotten a little bit frustrated, and joined forces in order to wipe the floor with hers. Which was where they were now; Paris had been her last true stronghold.

"With me!" She shouted at some of the red and black- clad gunners. Heads turned in her direction as she said the words, and they immediately rose from their crouches to her orders. She sprinted up the next flight of stairs, a group of masked men running down towards them. Before they had thought much, she was on top of them, shoving her signature, left- hand blade through the throat of the first, putting a bullet through the second's head. It was over in a matter of seconds; she was the most respected woman for a reason- her gang was the best. They came to the next floor, and she rolled again, knifing the back of someone's knee, knocking out three more before they had even noticed she was there. The soldiers that were hers let their eyes rest on her only briefly before they shouted their will to fight loudly. It was too much for her, their loyalty. They were going to die, fighting for her safety. She raised the arm with the hidden blade. "With me, Morningstar!" Her voice rang out clearly, and many of them flocked to her; backing in stiletto boots to stand around her. Even then, it was only a small fraction of the troops she was so used to commanding. The woman sprinted to the last stairwell, her gunners following quickly. Her own stilettos clicked rhythmically as she rose to the roof, towards the waiting helicopter. She pulled off to the side, raising her gun and drawing the extra one she had stolen downstairs. The blades of the helicopter whirled, and she fired off at any followers that tried to follow her troops in. Even as they were doing so, she watched her people fall. She had only escaped with eight. Within a brief moment, she contemplated going back in, grabbing them by the hair or the collar, and dragging them out.

"Come on, damn it!" A familiar voice called from inside the cockpit. The boss turned, and stepped in, slipping through the door as the flying machine rose, tilting forward. She slid into the open copilot seat, nodding her head as the blades spun faster, the body of the vehicle tipped. She could see the many black- clad gunners firing at them, heard the echo of her own soldiers returning fire from just behind them. "I need numbers, boys! Give them to me straight and fast! We're in a bit of a situation right now!" The red- haired pilot shouted, her own semi- automatic resting on her lap in case she required it. She was also armed with two pistols, with too many extra clips of ammo. "Kalmar has twelve in the main jet, Lehtonen five in his chopper, and Reynder has two. Laninga has as much weaponry as she could get in the third chopper, with Pandev and Hagebak rising with some of the Challengers and the Kanedas. We have my Tornado, two Sideshooters, and the Oppressor. We also have the Specter and the F-69." She paused briefly, looking over to the boss. "How many here?"

"Eight."

"Nine." The young woman repeated. She grinned. "Yes, I have the Boss. Altogether that makes us thirty five. Fly safe my brothers, I'll be on emergency call only. You know the drill." She clicked something on the ceiling, and the light on her headset started blinking. She then turned her head to the boss, briefly. "Talk to me, mama." She whispered. The blonde woman thinned her lips, barely able to control her tears.

"This was our last stronghold, Akilena." She stated, shaking her head. The younger girl pulled a towel from beneath her console, holding it out.

"You have blood on your face." the boss just shook her head, wiping the reddish- brown liquid from her cheeks.

"I never expected..." They both looked out over the city that was once Paris, but was now just a torrent of flames from every direction. Something exploded closer to the Tower, and the boss all but cringed. "Never expected them to come after us here." Lena held out her hand, and the boss took it. The flew in near- silence for awhile, when a second helicopter, a side shooter, flew near. It dropped slightly behind and below their own, as if flying in reverence to them, when a third caught up from further North. "Where are the planes, and the other side shooter?" The pale ivory hand reached up, resetting the radio as she began speaking.

"Reynder, Pandev, Hagebak, Kalmar, location report?" She paused. "They'll meet us over the Atlantic, Boss. No one wants to go past the tower right now, and we should probably be separate until we're out of sight from the land." The boss nodded, only once. "Affirmative, guys. That's been the okay by the boss. Shutting down again." She tapped a few of the buttons before turning back to the flight controls.

"Where are we going, Lena." She asked, leaning her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair. She undid the clasp around her blonde hair, letting it cascade down her shoulders as she glared out the window at the near- perfect landscape that was everything outside a Morningstar hide out. The red- haired Russian pulled out a folder, handing it to the blonde woman. She took it, opening the manila envelope, slipping out the parcel of paper and stashing the envelope beneath her left knee. The words were written in Cyrillic, and she raised an eyebrow. "Lena."

"Just read the files, Lady." The boss just grinned slightly, before flipping the first page. She allowed her eyes to skim over the pages of information, grimace slowly becoming less like a grim expression and more like something that was intrigued, hopeful even.

"How _did _you find this?" The blonde looked up, arching a perfect blonde eyebrow. The younger girl smirked.

"I have my ways, do you like it?" The blonde leaned against the turn in the body of the helicopter, holding up a photo of a raven haired woman.

"I do hate the Third Street Saints." The Russian girl laughed, tilting forward on the controls.

"Hold on, hold on." She stated, reaching up and tapping on a button. "What do you want, Pandev?"

"I heard laughing on the emergency channel." The man stated. "Hagebak was worried."

"I was not." A gruff, female voice. Mutterings from a few others could be heard, as if they were trying to hold in their laughter at the reply.

"Oh, it was just that the Boss had said something amusing." Akilena answered. The blonde smirked, shaking her head as she stretched back against the seat again.

"Oh my god, no way. The Boss made a joke?" She recognized the voice as belonging to Decker Kalmar. "Holy shit, the world's gunna end soon."

"That's right, Deckie. She made a joke. Wanna know what it was about?" There was a whoop from a couple different voices, telling the other two about how the conversation was being broadcast through the airborne vehicles to all of her surviving members. The blonde held up a hand to make Lena pause.

"I seem to have said something about how the Saints are going to eat it- and soon enough, Boston will be ours!" The cheering that followed her words was tremendous, especially concerning how very small their group was. She leaned back, trying to laugh with her troops, when she came up with the perfect plan. And then she couldn't stop the smile that curled her lips. Boston would be hers.

* * *

_AN- First chapter of a Saints Row/ Rizzoli and Isles matchup! This is sure to be interesting, isn't it... Well, as you can probably tell, Steelport was destroyed through a mass gang warfare, the Syndicate split apart, and now the Morningstar are going after the Saints because they've gotten forcefully removed from Europe... And their sights immediately set upon Boston. Next chapter, the mysterious plan of the Morningstar will come to light, though not written by me! I'llThinkOfSomething10 and I will be attempting a cowritten story for this adventure, and its our first one. Regardless, review please! I love to hear what you think._

_Running with the Morningstar,_

_~SnapTobiume_


	2. Enter: Third Street Saints

Sex and drugs and guns. That is what the Saints stand for. She was supposed to be their leader, the Queen Saint. And she was a good leader; her emotions remained guarded beneath lock and key, behind a wall of stone and mortar. It stood beyond all opposition, every rocket launcher fired at it. She ran all of Boston; a city that she was proud to call her home, a place that she was proud to live in. And its people loved her, even if they didn't say so out in the open. The police turned a blind eye to her workings, and she knew better than to make any of her deals to conspicuous, to flashy. Lit roadsides belonged to the police, while the darkest alleys belonged to her.

She was Jane Rizzoli, and she ran the Third Street Saints.

When that call came in that they had been sighted, she had wanted to jump out into the open immediately. But she had witheld her initial reaction,and remained calm enough to listen to her partner. Barry Frost, late leader of the Deckers Gang, tracked the whereabouts of these... Things... That dared to infiltrate her perfect city. Even now, sitting behind her desk, partner perched on the arm of her swivelling chair, she was watching them. She was the only woman leader of the many gangs in the western hemisphere, her power was often tested. But she had yet to see a team that moved quite like this one.

The tell red- haired one ducked, firing two consecutive shots quickly, as the shorter woman behind her drew a pistol from a shoulder guard on the other woman. She aimed and fired within less than a heartbeat, before turning and firing again. jane nodded her head to dispatch another unit, simply watching the movements of the eight or so members. There was something that was much too... Calculated, about their moves. As if they were waiting for something. Then one slipped up. She wasn't completely sure which one it was exactly, one could never really be sure of anything other than a mistake being made. Jane raised a hand to her reciever, engaging it.

"Move in. Capture them all. No executions until further authorization has been recieved. I want answers before I kill them all." There was no affirmative given, for there was none needed. Her troops followed her orders, or they died. If they died following her orders at least, they were honored. If they deserted or disobeyed... Execution was too nice of a word for their treatment. "Frost, is there something strange about how they are moving, fighting?" She barely breathed to the darker- skinned man. He clicked a couple keys, before the battle projected into a larger view, spread across the opposing wall of the own troops were scattering, herding the red- clad soldiers inward forcefully, yet they almost seemed to move easily, as if they were moving of their own free will, rather than being forced.

"Yes, Rizzoli. They seem to be... Taking orders. But from inside. There is no wireless data infiltrating the group other than our own." The raven- haired woman leaned forward slightly, perplexed. If she took his words seriously, which she had more than enough grounds to do so, he was hinting that their leader had taken the field.

"What kind of mob boss takes the field with his troops? Zoom in on all of them men there." Five photos jumped up around the proceedings, and backgrounds followed within moments. Her tech? He was almost too good sometimes. If she didn't know better, every now and then she would have been worried about the ex- Decker's loyalty to her and the Saints. But she had destroyed the Deckers, and then given them the second chance they needed. And they proved their loyalty time and time again, in missions where, if they so wished, they could get away from her. They could try to band together and rally against her. Yet they didn't. They were no longer Deckers, really, but Saints. She raised a hand to the headpiece again. "Three to every male, two to female." She ordered promptly. "Isolate who their leader is, and quickly. Bring them to me." With satisfaction, Jane watched as her Saints organised themselves. She ran a well- oiled machine, and they were living up to their standards once again. They were making her proud to be their leader. Not that she wasn't normally proud, or anything. She was almost always proud. She watched as her soldiers left the dead where they were, including the red- haired one that had been such a glorious fighter. It was a shame, really. She could have been turned, could have become a Saint. Maybe even risen to where Frost had, at Jane's side. Frost cut the video feed back to its usual,, computer- screen size, before Jane folded her hands, leaning forward slightly on her desk. Now it was only a matter of moments before this gang's boss was walked in to meet her.

The door swung inward, and two of her own guardsmen stepped through, shorter blonde woman shoved through between them, before being pushed to a kneeling position on the floor. Jane cocked an eyebrow. She looked like nothing special, nothing she hadn't seen before on the streets. She raised hardened eyes to her guards, signaling Frost to speak.

"Lady Rizzoli ordered you to bring the leader, and only the leader." The man stated with a hard edge to his voice. One of her Saints bowed his head, shoving the woman's body forward.

"She's the only one that knows who it is. None of the others are talkin' at all, ma'am." Jane drew back slightly, tilting her head to the side as she did so. Curious, that this woman seemed to know a bit about the ruling party for the gang she was employed in. Perhaps a higher- class whore.

"Speak." Jane commanded.

"Have them remove their hands from me." The woman commanded back, her voice as threatening as Jane's own. The Saint leader drew back, appalled that a commoner such as this had the audacity to speak in such a tone while in her presence.

"Restrain her further." The blonde looked up, her eyes glinting slightly. She grinned, showing a row of perfectly white, aligned teeth.

"Very well, if that is how it is. I shall remove them myself." Jane had barely risen from her chair before there was blood squirting up to the ceiling from the left- most guard, and the right one falling to the ground. The blonde was standing, facing Jane, with a smug grin painted across her face. She raised her left hand, retracting the hidden blade that had been wielded so effortlessly to take the lives of two of her men in such a short time. Not only did she stand, but Jane noticed something else. Her initial conclusions about the woman had been supremely off- base. She wore her power, her authority, like a halo around the dark blonde hair that fell to the center of her back like waves. Her skin was pale, dusted with just the right amount of freckles, and her clothing was revealing enough to show confidence, yet modest enough to deter any normal person's thoughts. She was short, yet she made up for it with heels that were at least six inches in height, and she was all legs. Jane found herself having difficulty with swallowing. She thought her whores were pretty.

This woman was absolutely, fucking beautiful.

"Who the Hell are you, and who's presence do you believe to be standing within-" Frost began, when that confident smile interrupted him.

"I am in the presence of Jane Rizzoli leader of the Third Streets Saints." She whispered. She shrugged. "And who better to stand here, in this spot, than one to give ample enough warning, than I? The Morningstar will be taking over Boston, Lady Rizzoli, whether you enjoy this prospect or not." Jane slammed her hands down.

"And who are you to make such assumptions?" She growled out, her face turning scarlet more quickly than she could have imagined. The blonde ducked her head slightly, taking a few steps towards the window as she did so.

"Oh, forgive me. I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself." She grinned again. "Maura Isles, Leader of the Morningstar." She paused at the window, her blade flashing out a few moments before the glass shattered. "Oh, and a slight warning, to make this interesting." Jane opened her mouth to retort, when the woman held out her arms, as if to fall backwards from the height. "I believe you have roughly twenty- three seconds before this building explodes." She waved with one hand. "Adieu, Jane Rizzoli. Until we meet again." She threw herself back, flipping neatly into a perfect dive, when a black tornado tilted to its side, maneuvering until she met the bars upon the bottom of it. Jane let her shock at such a beautifully- executed maneuver over come her for a brief moment, before she snapped back into business mode. She glared at Frost.

"Get everyone out of the building, its going to fucking explode!" He scrambled off, and she glanced out the shattered window one last time, eyes narrowing. She knew what this meant, not only for her, but all of Boston.

This meant war.

* * *

_AN- I don't honestly think I have ever been more pissed off in my life than I am currently. You see, this was supposed to be co-written. Also, we were supposed to be making a faux- Saints Row photo shoot, and a Rizzoli and Isles photo shoot. Oh, and then I was supposed to be recording a full cover album with someone else. Well its freaking one in the fucking morning, and know what my week has been like? "Oh, I'm not co-writing that." "Oh, you are NOT taking pictures of me." "My bunny died, so I'm going to forget about everything I planned to do with you." And a lot of screwing around in the studio where we are supposed to be seriously recording. What. The. Fuck. I have less than two weeks before I leave for college, and this was my god- damned last chance at some of this shit. So yea, I'm kind of pissy. Not to mention, that show I was really excited about? Fell the fuck off. Placed fucking last because I was neither popular enough nor pretty enough. Definitely really pissy._

_In other words, I am now the only writer for this fic, and it is no longer a co- written adventure. My sincerest apologies, but I'll probably do a fucking better job with description anyway. Regardless of the changes, and my mega- pissy attitude, I hope you enjoy where this is going, and will go. If not, my apologies for being rude, but too fucking bad. I enjoy writing it. So leave reviews, even the bad ones make my days better, because they make me smile, and laugh a little bit._

_Oh, but on a better note, i got my ass grabbed by a fifty year old drunk woman with cake on her boob. Yeaaaa. Mega win. But her advice to my friend and I was "Go into the woods with a six pack of beer, smoke some weed, kiss your girlfriend, fuck your brains out, and everything will be alright." I think I'm going to find me a girl and go take this advice. It made me laugh. And it would probably work. I could use a good fucking of my brains. Thank you drunk lady with cake on your boobs. Also my friend, Mr. Pissy- Pants, finally admitted that Sasha Alexander is at least a 9.5 on the scale. It has been one long argument, but I have prevailed. *grumble* calling Sasha a 5... How dare he. One does not simply call her a five, and get away with it._

_With my 'happy' face still intact,_

_~SnapTobiume_


	3. The Spy

Jane spun, firing her left handed pistol at the retreating woman. The blonde licked her lips, tantalizingly, as she threaded a cable around her left arm, snapping up into the air. Her hair flipped forward with the movement of the helicopter, and her cloak swirled around her for a brief moment before the movement of the aircraft tossed her inside the open door with practiced ease. The black- haired woman cursed, firing her annihilator at the craft with sloppy imprecision. The tornado released its own missiles, exploding the weaponry mid- air. Even from her position on the ground, Jane could see the blonde woman, Maura Isles, slipping into the copilot seat, taking the controls for the weaponry, as the red- head that Jane had thought was dead spun the craft off to the side, and handed the woman a folder.

Even as Jane recounted the event without Frost's video reminder of the proceedings, she couldn't help but slam her fists against her desk. This was all getting so frustrating. She would win the battles, but the expenses were not beyond her. She was losing man power. Faster than she was bringing it in. For a band of no more than forty members, pilots and technicians included, the blonde was doing a bang- up job of throwing as many hitches into Jane's life as she could. She would lose forty, fifty men at a clip, but win the battle. Yet how much of a victory was that, really? She smacked her forehead into the wooden desk.

"Damn it all to Hell!" She was glad that Frost wasn't in there to hear her curses, to witness her complete and total frustration. They were at a stalemate, and Jane knew who was holding all of the gambling chips in her hands... And it was not her. She clicked on the receiver for Frost, calling him up to her office. She ran a hand through her hair when she glanced her own reflection in the mirror attached to her door. The divider swung open a few moments later, and Frost placed his computer to her right, followed by his folder which meant another attack. "Fuck me." Jane moaned, dropping her head to the table again, before folding her arms around her messy curled hair.

"If you would stop thinking about her so much, it'd be easier to accept." He stated, typing quickly, before opening the folder. "Did you want to look at the information."

"Fuck no." Her voice sounded like she was crying, frustrated, all of the above. Frost cocked a hand on his hip, glaring at her over his darkened shades. "She's winning, Frost. I win. She can't. I do not lose. And she is kicking my ass."

"It would be easier to just kill the bitch if you weren't so attracted to her." Jane moaned into the wooden surface, and the man sighed, sliding into a sitting position on the arm of her chair. He rested his hand on her left shoulder, massaging gently as she ran her hands through her hair, resting her chin on one hand when she reached for the file. Opening it immediately, she was presented with a photo of the blonde, back- to- back with the red head that had acted dead so beautifully that first time.

"I know." She nodded, before glancing at Frost, and tilting her head.

"She is fucking beautiful, Jane. I see where you're coming from. But-"

"I know. I would never compromise the Saints position, i would never compromise the Saints themselves. Not even for her." She glanced back at the file, when he sighed.

"I was going to say she's more my type." He stated, tapping on the red- haired girl, before their gazes locked again. After a brief, slightly awkward pause positively brimming with realization and understanding, the two burst out laughing. Jane shoved him fisting his coat as he stumbled from the chair arm, just in case he fell. She released it, grinning fully.

"Depressing aren't we." The man grinned broadly.

"I was going to say pathetic."

"Oh, shut up!" She laughed again thumbing through the files as the effortless conversation rolled around in her mind. Then her face turned serious again, and she let her eyes narrow.

"What are we doing, Lady? The Saints don't lose, you've said it yourself." She tapped on one of the pages, and smirked.

"Bring me Sera. I have an assignment for her." Frost grinned, before paging their weaponry manager, and asking him to bring up the youth bearing the name that their leader had just stated. Her plan was bound to be amazing; even if it didn't work out just as planned. Jane leaned back against her chair. Even if Maura Isles was brilliant, which she most definitely was, there was no one that would ever top Jane Rizzoli. Not here. Not in Boston.

* * *

"I don't like any of the ones we've seen so far."

"You're whining." Maura sighed, reaching over to shove the girl beside her, hearing her start laughing as she was shoved out of her reclined position. "YA nauchil tebya luchshe, chem nytʹ." _I taught you better than to whine._

"Prinoshu svoi izvineniya." _My apologies._ She smiled, pulling the red- head back into a loose embrace. "Ne posylaĭte menya. Pozhaluĭsta." _Don't send me away. Please._

"YA nikogda ne budet. Nikogda . YA obeshchayu." _I never would. Never, ever. I promise. _She pushed her hair back, tieing it up into a high bun for the younger girl. "My nakhodimsya v etom vmeste." _We're in this together._ Akilena nodded, kissing the blonde's cheek briefly, before settling her hands into a neat fold once more. She pressed down on the receiver.

"Send in the next one." She sighed out, voice accented thickly from speaking in her native language. Maura folded her own hands, letting her face settle into an expressionless, blank mask. A girl stepped in, her lip pierced, wearing all black. Her long, dark hair fell to around her waist, and Maura tilted her head, nodding once. "Name? Reason for your request to join?" Akilena asked, her voice a low growl.

"Evergrain, Serafina." She stated. "And I simply hate the Saints, and all that they stand for." Maura rested a hand on Akilena's causing the girl to turn towards her.

"Chto-to proiskhodit." _Something is up._ The girl whispered, her voice edged. Maura nodded. "YA ne doveryayu yee slova." _I don't trust her words._

"You will undergo our training regiments. Welcome to the Morningstar, Miss Evergrain." Maura stated, grinning. "Take her down to Vivian." She waited until the door had shut again, before holding up a hand to stop the words that were bound to spill from Akilena's mouth. "Skazhite, chto vy dumaete."_ Tell me what you think._

"YA ne znayu. YA ne uveren . No chto-to ne tak, nelʹzya doveryatʹ." _I don't know. I am not sure. But something is wrong, not to be trusted. _Maura smiled. "Vy uzhe dogadalisʹ , ne tak li!" _You already figured it out, didn't you!_

"Konechno. YA samyĭ luchshiĭ , v kontse kontsov. Skazhi mne, chto otvet na etot vopros." _Of course. I am the best, after all. Tell me what the answer is._ Akilena rolled her eyes, before shaking her head. Then she stared at the blonde, thinking.

"Ona shpion." _She's a spy. _And then realization, her jaw dropping as she nearly laughed. Maura only smiled. "Ona shpion , chto zhenshchiny!" _She's that woman's spy!_

* * *

_AN- So I'm in a better mood now. Or rather, a different one. Kind of. I mean, I'm pissed off because both IllThinkOfSomething and I have been getting hit on every minute of our lives by the same person who doesn't seem to understand the meaning behind "you are not a woman, get the fuck out of my house." I didn't think it was possible for one person to be so horrifyingly dim- witted. But alas, it is. However, I like where this story is heading, even though I really don't know where exactly that is yet, and I absolutely will not give up on it, I swear. So here's to Saints Row and R& I- of which the season three finale is going to be playing in a day and a few hours! I CAN NOT WAIT. But it is probably going to make me cry... They always do. However, I do have all three seasons on my laptop to watch at my convenience, so yea... Pure love._

_Reviews appreciated-_

_~SnapTobiume_


	4. Too Easy

Jane paced back and forth from her large picture window to her desk. Frost was seated in her chair; something that normally didn't fly so well, but she found herself not caring much about right at the present moment. She stopped at the window again, watching out over her city as she stood still for the first time in awhile.

"Any word from her?" She finally called back; watching the people that she could just barely see as they went about their business happily. There was some light clicking; the sound of fingers on a keyboard.

"No transmissions yet. However, Oh wait. Here she is." Jane spun around, glaring at him as he rose from her chair, the screen connecting. Jane folded her hands, resting her chin on them as she gave her best glare to the nearly- connected screen. She lowered one hand to the desk as Sera looked at her from the other side of her own screen.

"They're planning a take over of Leather & Lace, ma'am. This afternoon, around six." Jane nodded, scratching a note for Frost, who nodded at the names scrawled across the page. "Also, I looked into the woman for you. I know you said she was smart, but she hasn't seemed to figure out what I'm doing, yet."

"She probably has, and just hasn't let you know yet." Jane hissed, knowing better than to think that the blonde leader was not feeding her this information so easily. There had to be a catch; there always was. "What else?"

"Well, she runs her Stars differently than the Saints. Its almost like they're... I don't know. Closer. She and that red haired one, Akilena, they seem especially close together. Its almost creepy actually, they're like nineteen years apart." Jane turned to Frost, nodding her head to tell him to search the name.

"Akilena Zolnerowich. She's only nineteen years old, this year. Birthday in June. Biological parents unknown, private adoption by the Utkin family." He told her. "Ran away when she was seven. Guess she joined the Morningstar then, but that's kind of young. Doesn't say much more about her, except she was exceptional in school until she flew the coupe. Changed her name when she was twelve to Zolnerowich, with a signature that was a rather exceptional forgery of Mrs. Utkin's. The woman in question was however, dead at that point. The documentation was signed by..." Jane turned her head.

"By who, Frost."

"A blonde woman with hazel eyes and pale skin, who never gave her name. You think it was her?"

"My gut says it was." Jane turned back to the informant, who fidgeted nervously. "What else do you have to report, Sera?" The dark- haired woman bit her lip, before sighing.

"Lady Rizzoli, I hope you don't take this as offensive, but I... I like it here. There's some seriously big secrets, and some seriously bad shit going down, but... I don't know. Its almost like its friendly." She paled a bit, before running a hand through her hair. "They've all accepted me, trusted me. I don't understand it at all." She shrugged, before seeming to shrink back a bit. "Are you angry?"

"Is your loyalty still to the Saints?" Jane pushed a harshness into her voice that she didn't necessarily feel, but Sera nodded, her eyes hardening. "Then no, I am not angry. I expect top performance from you, however. Show what the Saints can do."

"Of course, ma'am." As the connection ended, Jane looked down to the on- screen clock. It was only one- twenty in the morning. She leaned back in her chair, sighing.

"Akilena Zolnerowich. You think they're together?"

"Probably as much as you and I are, Jane." He scrolled through more information, his face a mask of concentration. "There's a lot of stuff on the girl that just plain off does not make sense. The Utkins were the sweetest people, then she just up and left."

"Zolnerowich. Son of the soldier. Maybe she found her birth mother?" Frost shook his head, closing the laptop as he did so.

"Don't know. But if she did, why did she have Maura Isles sign, instead of the Zolnerowich woman?" Jane raised a hand to her temple, head starting to pound.

"Yea. Alright. Not a whole lot makes sense about her story. Sorry I doubted you. Now go get the people we need for tonight. I'll go down to Korsak and see what he's got in the name of weaponry." Frost nodded, packing up his equipment as she rose, stretching. They would also have to find time to get some rest before going out on this mission. The late nights and early mornings were really starting to effect her. And that was never good. But at least she never dreamed.

* * *

She woke to screaming. The first thing she did, was look over to her clock, grabbing her gun in the process. She had registered that it was only a few minutes after two- thirty before she recognized the voice. She then all but sprang out of bed, tripping over her own feet ungracefully as she shouldered through the door connecting their quarters, barely glancing around the room to make sure it was empty before dropping the hand gun and reaching out to shake the girl's shoulders. The red- head sprang up, drawing her own pistol and pressing it to the side of her attackers face before a hand clamped down on her wrist, she made the connection to who it was, and her bad ass resolve crumbled as quickly as it had sprang forth.

"I'm here. It's alright, nothing can get you."She whispered, trying to keep her voice gentle, soothing. The girl wrapped her arms around her neck, dropping her firearm back to the bed as she burrowed her face into the older woman's shoulder, sobbing. "What happened? Was it a dream?" She ran her fingers through deep red hair, pressing her cheek to the side of the girl's face as she spoke.

"Oni shli na nas, dlya vsekh nas . Oni shli , chtoby ubitʹ nas vsekh."_They were coming for us; for all of us. They were coming to kill us all._ Maura leaned up against the wall, rocking the girl as she did so.

"Who came after us? The Saints? Jane?"

"Net." _No._ The younger one shook her head to emphasize her point. "YA ne znayu, kto . No tam bylo tak mnogo, i vse bylo chernym. Ikh forma i transportnykh sredstv, ya imeyu v vidu." _I don't know who. But there was so many, and it was all black. Their uniforms and vehicles, I mean._ Maura reached behind her for a tissue, slipping it into the girl's hand.

"Whatever it is, we'll get through it." She whispered again, looking towards the large window of their stronghold. She could see the neon purple lights that rose up from the Saint's stronghold, even from here. She wondered, vaguely, if it was them. If they would cause whatever Lena was seeing.

"Oni pytalisʹ menya ubitʹ. No im ne udalosʹ." _They tried to kill me. But they failed._

"Khorosho. Potomu chto ya ne znayu, chto ya budu delatʹ , yesli -" _Good. Because I don't know what I would do if- _She began, switching languages as Lena began to calm down a bit.

"Oni ne mogli ne s vami." _They didn't fail with you._ Maura drew in a deep breath, looking up to the ceiling. She shifted slightly, when Lena gripped tightly to her arm. "Stay. Pozhaluysta. Tolʹko dlya nemnogo. Pozhaluysta." _Stay. Please. Just for a little bit. Please._ Maura nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around the girl again.

"YA nikuda ne poydu." _I'm not going anywhere. _She felt Lena sigh, settling comfortably against her shoulder. Maura waited a few moments, before she started singing. It was a sad melody, and an even more depressing song. But she had always loved the words, always loved the way that her voice had risen with emotion. And it had always been her song to Lena. How when they weren't together, there was no more desire to sing. She turned to the window again, to those neon lights in the darkened sky. She often forgot how young the child was, until something like this happened. A part of the Morningstar for twelve years now, joining at the age of seven. She could remember it like it had been only yesterday. The little, red- haired firecracker waltzing in like she owned the place. The twenty- five year old Maura forcing the hands of her father to let the child in. He hadn't wanted to. He had said she was too young. He had been right, but she couldn't stand the thought of what other terrors laid outside their stronghold that the little Akilena would face. So she took her in. Had never expected the truth, who they all were, to come full circle and dredge up memories from her past again. But she never would have traded it for the world. Twelve years with the overly mature girl, and there had only been the occasional slip- up. Only the occasional moment where those who followed her would know the truth behind their relationship. She suspected the others knew, yet no one said a word. They turned a blind eye, and they followed her regardless. As the final notes of her song rang out from her lips, Maura wondered if Jane would think differently of her, if she knew. She wondered what the dark beauty was dreaming about, if she dreamt of Maura the way that she dreamt of Jane. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts of something that would never be, instead laying her head back against the wall as she watched the sleeping city. Why had she come here? Everything was suddenly much more confusing. And she simply didn't deal very well with confusion.

* * *

The hum of the tanks was music to Maura's ears as she tossed her right leg over her Kaneda, customized to be a slightly lighter shade of red that looked nearly pink, with bright red stars emblazoned along the black detailing up the sides. She was glad that they had managed to salvage her bike from Paris, but couldn't hold on to the memory long, before it threatened to override her with grief at the reminder of their last mission time in France. She looked behind her to where the others were either mounting their own Kanedas, or slipping into the brand- new Temptresses that she had sent her operatives to look into purchasing. She had gotten rid of the Specter not long after their arrival to Boston, having been the worse for wear after the extended flight, but instead had found the funds for a Stork, in order to make transporting their challengers easier than putting all of the weight on the Oppressor. She signaled to her troops, accelerating slightly out of the garage to give them enough room to form up behind her. She had also replaced a few of their Challengers; they had five now, rather than the two that they had escaped with. Shading her eyes, she looked up at the sound of spinning blades, and could barely keep the grin from her face. Other than the two side shooters and the Tornado that they had left Paris with, they had assembled a matching pair of armored Eagles. The five helicopters bobbed in a V- formation, the red and black Tornado out in front, waiting. She turned to check on everyone, before turning on the headset she was wearing, revving her engine. Their Oppressor lowered, cables connected to the Challengers, lifting them up into the air. The Stork completed the same task only a few moments later. Maura then nodded her head when the tanks were clear, turning to the road ahead, accelerating as she turned from their home towards the destination she had set. Hopefully, Jane had gotten the message, and would be meeting them their. She looked forward to the prospect of meeting the Saints in another clash, once again.

"What the Hell are you doing, Lena, you're flying crooked!" They hadn't gone far when she heard the voice, and quickly recognized the voice of one of her pilots. She looked up with the side mirror, watching as the Tornado rose up a bit, its tail kicking to the side slightly, riding with the wind.

"I always fly crooked. You think you would learn by now." Maura nearly snorted, slowing down to stop at the red light. She raised a hand, turning on her communication, before replacing her hand on the handlebars.

"Yes, but, its difficult to stay in formation when you're kicking fucking everywhere! You should at least give us a little more time to see the buildings before you whip a tight turn around them." The voice sounded annoyed, and Maura risked another glance upward again. She knew this type of flying meant one of two things. And since they had yet to start shooting anything, well, there was only one option left.

"Are you reading Boost monthly?" She asked sweetly, hearing the other pilots gasp at her sudden entrance. Akilena laughed, and she tapped on the receiver lightly.

"Why, of course. There are some new models out this season. Fancy, fancy. Very appealing." Maura tilted her head.

"Do inform me." She found herself listening to an avid description, considering she couldn't see the photos, of the newest model of not only helicopters, but planes and hover bikes as well. According to the pilot above her, there was a new version of the Tornado out, and an attractive- looking Vulture with an updated auto- machine gun. She spent awhile complaining about the rocket launchers however, and then how the undercarriage and tail were both redesigned. She was then informed about the latest version of the Condor; a transport plane that Maura made a mental note to look into exclusively when they got back. Just in case they were ever pushed out of another district, that sounded like it could come in handy. That was when she waved her signal, speaking up briefly to Lena and watching as the Tornado straightened out, the helicopters widened in their formation until they made a protective circle around the ones on foot. Maura signaled her troops, stashing the bikes in the alleyways quickly, efficiently. They drew their weapons, and she nearly dropped her hidden blade, just in case. They split up, entering the door on her call.

It was too late, on the third floor when she stopped dead, spinning around. This was too easy. It was much too easy. Maura slammed down on her headset, calling through on emergency. Her voice hit a higher pitch, one she didn't even think possible.

"Lena! Get us out of here!"

And then, all Hell broke loose.

* * *

_AN- So everyone still needs to go and show my tumblr some lovin' at littlemissgoldie*tumblr*com... Because I posted the full cover for this story there, and, trust me. You'll see Frost's edit, and cry you'll laugh so hard. My apologies for the lengthy time between updates, I crossed R&I with Sleeping Beauty, and it was wonderful. You should go check it out :P I am, however, planning to finish this one before I start a crossover with Beauty and the Beast. *cough'BeautyandtheJane'cough*_

_~SnapTobiume_


	5. Holy Hell

Jane was tearing down the back alleys to cross behind her destination, when she felt as if something was wrong. She clamped down on the brake slowly, releasing the throttle for her Estrada, looking up to the building they were headed towards. She held up a hand, slowing as her brow furrowed. With one elbow, she jabbed the man who had an arm around her waist.

"Frost, find me a channel. Preferably one without locks." He released her as they spread out into shadows behind her, many of her Saints reaching for guns, grenades, anything. "Look at that helicopter. Damn." The Tornado whirled, bobbing back and forth before an Eagle came down and fired at the window. The sound of gunfire was rapid, and she smacked Frost with her elbow again.

"There are locks on channel six, and strict coding on eight, but nothing on ten. Do you have any idea what's going on?" Jane reprogrammed her headset, switching to the channel he said had no lock, jumping off the Estrada and leaving Frost there.

"Have a team ready to leave. I don't know; but I'm about to find out." Jane readied an SMG as she stepped carefully towards the building, listening carefully.

"_Akilena! Get more on this! Now!"_

_"I can't nuke it with you guys in there!" _The tornado wavered, the only helicopter not firing; the only one without automatic firing, and rocket launchers only. "_Get the fuck up so we can get you out!"_ There was the sound of gunfire, and Jane signaled to her saints, who readied weapons, crouching as they exploded into the doors.

"_We can't! When I tell you to nuke it, you nuke it!"_ Maura's voice. Gunfire. But her voice still strong._  
_

"_I don't accept that!_" Jane pressed on her private line to Frost, her Saints silencing the few that were on the first floor.

"Tell me where they are, Frost." She commanded, heading towards the main room of the floor.

"_Third floor, wedged between two groups. They seem to have been jumped from above, but knew they had been followed. They can't move, there are too many guns on them."_

"Third floor. Rescue the Morningstar. Casualties to a minimum, guys. For the Saints."

"For Lady Rizzoli!" The cry made her grin slightly, before her features hardened, and she led the way up the first flight of stairs. She pressed down on the headset on the line that the Morningstar used.

"_Nuke it!" _Maura's strangled cry, as if she was at a point where she had no other choice. "_Do it now, its over!"_

"Nothing is over until the Saints have their say in the matter!" Jane called out, sprinting up the stairs, firing the SMG as if her life depended upon it. And in a way, many lives did. She paused, tossing the automatic back on her shoulder and withdrawing dual pistols with exploding bullets, aiming quickly for multiple head shots. There was a movement before her, blonde hair flying forward as legs wrapped around one of the midnight- clad soldiers, heel of her hand thrusting into his neck before she flipped back off from him, turning and shooting another that had approached behind, before spinning and thrusting that left hand towards another soldier. She dropped to the floor at the same time that Jane shot three more, kicking the legs out from beneath another who had aimed his gun at Jane. Her single pistol spun, blowing his brains across the stairs as she stepped forward, firing right beside Jane's head, knocking back the attacker that had realized the darker, taller woman was distracted. "Don't act like you're better than me." Jane growled, firing quickly, efficiently.

"I am not better than you, I know that. Different, yes. Better at what I do, yes." She spun, driving her hand into the throat of another attacker who had been more concerned with the other Saints than them. "You shouldn't have come."

"Don't know why I did. Maybe I was feeling nice."

"We didn't need your help." The words were harsh, when she raised her gun, firing twice consecutively. "To me, Morningstar! Out the front! Now!" She reached over, drawing a gun from the first of her soldiers that passed, raising them and firing at any of the soldiers that followed.

_"Standing by to nuke."_ Maura nodded, before she looked at Jane.

"Shouldn't your Saints be hightailing it? I will nuke this place with you still inside."

"Pissy, aren't you." She raised an arm. "Saints! Get out! As far away as you can get! This place is going up in flames!" She reloaded the pistols taking up the same stance as Maura did, taking on their attackers single- handed. "You aren't the only one who's a good shot." Maura smirked slightly, cocking one of the guns behind her and dropping a body to the floor that had tried to get around them. "Crap."

"You were saying?" Jane growled again, the cocky smirk that painted itself across Maura's features quickly burrowing beneath her skin. How could the woman be so... Infuriating. And even worse, why did she have to like it, so damn much?

"_Nuking in one minute." _Maura sheathed on gun in Jane's holster, smirking as she ran forward suddenly, darting through the fray of people. The Saints leader cursed, following only a half a second behind her, sprinting up the stairs. The building should have been about seven stories, and they were climbing the sixth when Maura approached the next wave of soldiers, three having fallen from what looked like a knife, and six from her pistol. "_Thirty seconds."_ Jane shot the lock on the rooftop door, approaching the woman that was merely steps ahead of her. "_Ten."_ The Tornado wavered, lifting in the sky over to their left. _"Five."_ Maura stopped suddenly, grabbing tight to Jane's arm.

"Ever jumped seven stories?"

"No, why-" Maura smirked, falling backwards and taking the Saints leader with her.

"_Firing."_ The explosion rocked the building behind them, crackled the very air they were falling through. Maura moved at some point, pulling on a parachute that Jane hadn't noticed before then. The building itself was detonating, becoming encompassed in roaring flames. When her feet touched down, she slit the strings of the parachute, dropping Jane's shoulders as she threw a couple trash bags off to the side.

"Holy shit." Jane all but shouted. "Holy shit!"

"That was my first reaction as well, though the first time I jumped it was off the Eiffel Tower. And it was with an Eight year old attached to my back like her life depended on it."

"_I remember that." _Jane turned her head, glaring at Maura with her jaw opened, but words failing to come forth. The woman revved the engine of her Kaneda, jumping on, Jane simply shaking her head. "_Supports going in ten. Pulling a nice, neat crumbling explosion. Stand clear."_

"Coming?" Jane tossed herself up on to the back of the bike, Maura accelerating immediately to a pace faster than Jane was used to driving. "Go for the four surrounding. There's no doubt their swamped too." The blonde growled, speeding up relentlessly.

"_Copy that."_ The second explosion shook the road they were on, when Maura pulled her bike up into a wheelie, turning right ninety degrees as if it was second- nature. "_Mission complete. See you home later, Lena signing off_. _I'll tell the others they did good_." Maura tucked the headset back, barely slowing enough for the next turn, Jane's arms tight around her waist.

"Why did you come."

"We were going to teach the Morningstar a lesson." She answered immediately, tone biting, sarcastic. "Didn't happen according to plan, did it."

"Obviously not. Where the Hell am I dropping you off? I want to go home."

"What makes that pilot so damn special?"

"You wish you knew." Maura pulled another ninety- degree turn, speeding up down the main highway as she did so. Jane slid one hand beneath the seat and her left thigh, the bike swerving sharply to the side as she did so.

"You will tell me."

"I will tell you nothing." Jane pressed up with her fingers, the bike swerving sharply again, Maura leaning back into a power slide as she turned off the highway and onto a less- traveled side- road.

"You will." She ducked her head down, biting down on a section of exposed neck. "I'll make you." The bike slid to a stop, slamming her body forward into the blonde's, when the later all but shoved Jane off of her.

"Get off the bike. Now." She growled, pushing her towards the building. "Inside. Go." The door slammed, and Jane shoved back, slamming Maura's back into the door, pinning her wrists to her sides.

"You're a bit bossy, you know."

"And you're a bit turned on, but we shouldn't go stating the obvious, should we." Maura's near sarcasm only succeeded in her more dominant hand sliding down to beneath that short skirt again, running up over a soft thigh, towards her core.

"Do you beg?" She whispered, running her tongue against the veins in the blonde's neck.

"Not for you." Jane pulled back, only to meet smoldering eyes. "Because you wouldn't beg for me." She whispered forcefully, pushing the taller woman back towards the nearby couch, stepping out of her heels as she did so, ripping the jacket from the brunette's shoulders as her own camisole was discarded somewhere along the way, belt tossed to the side, her jacket hanging over by the door. Maura's hands traveled down to Jane's belt as she bit down on a bare shoulder, one hand tangled into her blonde hair, the other stroking down her arm, being trapped there between them.

"What is this?" The Saint asked, rolling them over and pinning the blonde's wrists beneath her right hand.

"A weapon. I believe in your language its called a hidden blade. In mine; lama celata. Deadly when trained." She purred the words, twisting her wrist from Jane's grasp, running the edge of her hand beneath her jaw, before running her fingers over the woman's chest, down her abs, pausing at underwear that was not quite as lacy as her own. She paused, as if waiting. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Take it off." Her voice was a deep growl, and Maura smirked, rolling her eyes seductively.

"I don't think I will. Oh-" Her gasp was coupled with the arch of her back, a full- body shiver.

"Hmm, so the great Maura Isles likes her hair pulled." Jane whispered seductively, setting a fast pace with her hand, twisting her fingers into long, blonde locks. Maura smirked, running her tongue up under Jane's jaw before she bit down on the soft flesh of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. She slid two fingers deep inside of the other woman, chuckling when she shivered, gasping at the feeling.

"Faster, Jane." She moaned, sucking on the woman's collarbone as she spoke, moving her own fingers, curling them inward as she dug long nails into a perfectly tanned shoulder. "Harder." She moaned, the specific metallic taste of blood warming her tongue as she felt herself tighten, felt Jane reaching the same breaking point. Curling her fingers further and pressing in against the spongy patch there, massaging the woman's clit, Maura felt Jane's orgasm overtake her; her own not long after. Jane bit down hard as she came, Maura's body arching into her as she clamped tighter to her her spasms slowed, Maura let her head fall back, panting.

"Holy Hell."

"Yes. That is an adequate way to put everything." The blonde whispered, withdrawing away from Jane as the other pulled away from her. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to organize her feelings into thoughts, and quickly realizing that she couldn't. She just felt too many things, and hadn;t felt anything remotely similar in so many years. She liked the way that Jane had put it.

Holy Hell.

* * *

_AN- So I got distracted AGAIN and started a crossover with Ever After/ Cinderella and Rizzoli and Isles. And I get distracted on tumblr a lot. Also, I passed a hospital with my mom at like, 11 at night, and recorded a new voicemail message that is hilarious. I hope you like where this story is going so far, and hope its also not as see- through as both my previous story, and the season three finale. Because everyone on Tumblr was like "ITS DENNIS OMG HOW DO YOU NOT SEE? SDFGSUYRIZZLESHVUFVHFGVH."_

_Oh, speaking of R&I, did anyone watch that behind the making of 3-08? Because Janet Tamaro's "I didn't know Sasha spoke Serbian." made me laugh so hard I almost started crying. Just saying. The little things in life, I'm tellin' you. Enjoy the little things. Like her face when she describes how Sasha just comes out and starts speaking in Serbian... LOL._

_~SnapTobiume_


End file.
